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Open Poetry #48
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Thanksgiving Duck ( have had turkey every since)r) )
| Open Poetry #48 |
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Thanksgiving Duck ( have had turkey every since)r) ) |
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jwesley Member Rara Avis
since 2000-04-30
Posts 7563Spring, Texas 
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Thanksgiving Duck (from Boyhood Tales) Seems I had this duck when I was a young fella, a few years younger than now anyway. Never named it, just called it “Duck”, you know, like “here a duck, there a duck, everywhere a duck”. I peeled most of the shell away from that duck, so I guess you could say I was it’sdaddy, or whatever ducks call the head quacker. And Duck definitely thought I was the Quacking Chief. He – Duck was a Muscobie drake – followed me everywhere, he came when I whistled, called, or just walked out the door. He used to stand at the back door looking in and when I’d come into sight he’d peck on the door. I used to ride my bike down Oriole Street, whistle for Duck and he’d come flying out of the yard, follow me down the street or around the block, stop when I stopped, take flight when I started riding again. Of course I had to ride pretty fast to keep him flying because Duck flew at a pretty good clip. Sometimes he’d fly up ahead, land and wait until I caught up. You could see him about a block up the street walking back and forth impatiently. Dogs really liked Duck, more than a couple went yelping off tail tucked under after harrassing him, and a couple came close to loosing an eye. But duck was pretty sociable over all, as long as I didn’t show attention to anything else. Friends of mine discovered that the hard way and would stay ten or fifteen feet away when speaking with me, when Duck was around – Duck had his limits. And my girl friend – anywhere in sight was Duck’s limit with her. Duck was about three when he died. We didn’t have money for turkey, it was thanksgiving and the family was gathering – I volunteered Duck. Yeah, yeah, I know, I know… “but…but how could you do such a thing…?” Duck had gotten mean – he would attack anything and anyone, but don’t worry about Duck, he got the last “quack”. Somehow he must have know his “duck” was cooked when he saw Maw Maw and I coming out the back door. He took off running and squawking but before he could take flight he ran into the fence and with wings flapping, feathers flying beak gouging all the flesh it could grab, we caught him. I held his feetand the ends of his wings while Maw Maw stretched out his head and swung the hatchet. “Chomp!”Off came his head! With awesome strenght he pulled out of my grasp, skidded across the yard, then up into the air… Oh where, oh where has my Ducky gone, the one without a head, why, oh why did he fly away, didn’t he know that he was dead? The last we saw of Duck he was flyinginto the swamp. We caught the only two chickens large enough to eat, had them for dinner and took a helluva ribbing for the story we told…and I have to wonder, is Duck still out there somewhere, biding his time, waiting…waiting for me… © wesley james beard, jr |
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| © Copyright 2013 Wesley James Beard, Jr. - All Rights Reserved | |||
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latearrival Member Ascendant
since 2003-03-21
Posts 5499Florida |
Oh my, What a story. How old were you?It must have really been hard to see all that as a child. I have chills thinking about it. jo |
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JamesMichael Member Empyrean
since 1999-11-16
Posts 33336Kapolei, Hawaii, USA |
Nice writing...theres something refreshing about turkey...James |
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